Not Sorry
by Pizzagames
Summary: As Marik has almost literally lived under a rock for the first 17 years of his life, Bakura takes it upon himself to introduce the poor boy to the world of horror movies. The movie itself isn't enough for Bakura, and so begins a short series of pranks that Bakura is not actually sorry for.


**A/N: Amazing. I finally published another fic. I'm so sorry**

"You mean you've never _ever_ seen a scary movie before?" Bakura asked for at least the fifth time, to Marik's annoyance.  
"Nope." Marik had once again dismissed the topic, but Bakura refused to let it go.  
"That's pathetic."  
"Horror movies aren't something to marvel at, anyway," Marik said, almost snobbishly. Or at least, that's what Bakura thought, as Marik wouldn't look up from some book he'd swore he'd finish tonight. "Who would enjoy being scared?"  
"Halloween is coming up," Bakura urged. "You gotta see a scary movie by then."  
"That's nice." Marik loudly flipped a page, as if to tell Bakura to politely fuck off.  
"We're going to watch a scary movie tonight."  
Marik, sitting opposite Bakura on the couch, shook his head. Swallowing an insult, Bakura instead nodded enthusiastically. "We are _so_ watching a scary movie tonight. Wait until the sun goes down, it's going to be great."  
"Oh boy, I can't wait," Marik said, totally sarcastically. Bakura couldn't help but to smile. Sarcasm was one of the many things Marik didn't understand when they had met. And now look at him, almost as sarcastic as himself.  
"You have, like, three hours. If you're not done with that goddamn book by then, I'm burning it."  
That got a reaction. Marik finally looked up at Bakura, scowling as if that would make Bakura feel guilty. "I'll be done with the 'goddamn book', okay?"  
"Great." Bakura swung his feet off the couch and stood up. "I have to find a movie now. What do you want? Thriller, or something more paranormal?"  
"I don't know the difference. Pick your favorite," Marik said, already more interested in his reading again.  
Bakura stood there and watched him for a second or two before completely leaving the room. He didn't have a favorite. He was just going to pick whatever he thought would scare Marik the most, probably something supernatural, like the Exorcist. But then again, it would be funny to see him jump at a ghost movie.

* * *

"So, because I'm a great and decent person," Bakura started as he began closing the curtains to every window in the room. The sun still intruded through the thin fabric, but it would be gone in the next half hour anyway. "I'm letting you pick. I've got one movie in my left hand, and another in my right. So, left or right?"

"You don't have anything in either hand, idiot," Marik muttered, still focused on that book. Bakura wished he would finish faster, but apparently he was on the last chapter so he had no choice but to be patient.

"It was an expression. I don't actually have either movie, they're in the laptop."

Marik, still completely unfamiliar with modern technology, simply shook his head.

"Just pick one, so I can have it ready when you finish that book."

"I don't want to do this, Bakura," he said, shutting the book quickly and throwing it onto the coffee table. "This is a horrible idea. I don't want to watch a movie that is going to purposely scare me."

"That's what makes it fun. Pick. A. Movie."

Neither of them were going to back down, it seemed. Marik rose to his feet and attempted to walk down the hall to his room, but Bakura took him by the wrist and pulled him back into the living room.

"We are doing this," Bakura said, pulling both of them onto the couch with some difficulty. Marik was definitely the stronger of the two, but for some reason he let Bakura drag him across the room just now.

"You're going to have to let go of me sometime," Marik said, crossing his arms. "The movie isn't even on yet."

"Well, pick a movie."

"I don't want to."

"Don't be a bitch."

"Don't say mean words!"

Bakura couldn't contain his laugh. "Mean words? That's what you're calling that?"

"Let go of me," Marik demanded, only causing Bakura's grip to tighten ever so slightly.

"I'm picking the movie, then, if you won't. It's about spirits and possession, can you handle it?" He laughed, finding the topic hilarious given both their current situations.

Marik didn't respond, he just threw his head back onto the couch, making a disgusted noise. It was too late for Bakura to change his mind, now, and too late for Marik to be able to leave and still have any respect from Bakura. So for the next hour, they sat in the dark with Marik watching the screen but Bakura constantly shifting his eyes toward Marik, watching his reactions. Marik, usually observant and always could tell when Bakura was watching him, didn't seem to notice this time. He didn't even pretend to not be freaked out.

"This isn't real, right?" He asked, nearing the end.

For a second, Bakura wondered if he could get away with a lie. Besides, Marik didn't know much about special effects, so with a few technical terms, he would probably believe anything.

"It might be," he said, pausing to let the deceit settle. "I never really checked." Of course it was fake, even an idiot would know that, but as Marik had never even seen a television until he was 17, he almost believed once that all those late-night crime shows really happened.

"You lie a lot, how can I believe you?" Marik asked quietly, tearing his eyes away from the screen to glare at Bakura, who was practically laying on the floor at this point after lounging on the couch for so long.

"You can't," Bakura sighed, rolling off the couch completely and sitting on the floor, wedged between it and the coffee table. "Now be quiet and watch, it's about to get interesting."  
From the position he was currently sitting at, he couldn't see Marik's reactions, but was close enough to him still to where he could feel it when he tensed up or jumped a bit. It was all so humorous to Bakura, who was no longer paying any attention to the movie at all, just staring at the screen and waiting for Marik to do something else.  
Then there was a quiet scene, where the main character goes into the basement where a poltergeist was likely waiting, without a flashlight, alone. A stupid mistake, but only in a horror film would it make sense. The only sound emitting from the TV were the creaky steps that she reluctantly would rest on. This was taking far too long for Bakura's liking.  
"I'm going to get something to eat, want anything?" He asked Marik, who was clinging to a couch pillow.  
"I'm fine," he said as quietly as the woman's footsteps from inside the screen.  
The kitchen was connected to the living room, so Bakura kept the lights off and navigated the pantry by the light of the television. There were some single serve boxes of cereal near the top, although it was too dark for him to actually tell what was inside them. He grabbed two- even though Marik had refused, one serving would never be enough for any average person.  
Both boxes rattled obnoxiously when Bakura picked them up. Almost as soon as he had heard it, he froze, and a smirk crept onto his face. Over his shoulder, Marik was still absorbed by the movie, and the main character of the film was about to confront the antagonist- the ghost that had murdered her husband or something. Whatever.  
Still silent and on his toes, Bakura crept behind behind Marik with the tiny boxes, waiting for the opportune moment. Perhaps it was just to make himself seem more stealthy, but Bakura also crouched slightly.  
When the camera turned slightly and the gruesome face of the ghost was now obviously behind the woman, who was now without a flashlight and was following the light of a cheap lighter, Bakura revealed his hiding spot. Marik had gasped at the screen, but actually made a squealing sound when Bakura shook a box behind his head and threw another in his lap.  
"What the hell's your problem?" Marik snapped over the sound of the actresses' scream. Bakura couldn't conjure a response; instead, he fell onto his knees behind the couch, laughing with one hand clutched on his stomach.  
"Oh my god," he finally managed breathlessly. "That was way funnier than I had anticipated. Holy sh-"  
"That wasn't nice, Bakura." Marik rolled his eyes and stood up to leave, highly offended by the prank.  
"No no, don't go," Bakura pleaded, attempting to control himself. All he could do to keep Marik from leaving was grab him by the ankle.  
Now Marik sat on the floor, arms crossed, glaring at Bakura who was on his hands and knees still calming down. It wasn't that funny, but the noise Marik had made was unlike anything he had ever heard before.  
"I don't appreciate you laughing at me like this," Marik pouted.  
"I'm sorry," Bakura said, but no apology was intended from behind his grin. In the next ten seconds, he stopped laughing, smoothed out his shirt, sat up properly opposite Marik and made a real apology.  
"Well I don't accept it," Marik said, turning his head away.  
"I don't care," Bakura sneered. "I'm going to finish that movie now. I think there are only, like, ten, maybe twenty minutes left."  
"You can watch it alone, then."  
"Don't be an ass, Marik."  
"You're the ass, Bakura! You totally sneaked on me!"  
Bakura shrugged. "There's no law against pranks."  
Marik scoffed and didn't say another word. In one fluid movement, he stood and walked away, leaving Bakura alone in the dark, the only sound after his footsteps faded were that of the main characters screams as someone got mutilated before her.  
"What a cheesy movie," he remarked, propping his head on the couch. There wasn't much left to the movie, and he was feeling too lazy than to sit back on the couch. "Marik's missing out on all the bloody stuff."  
To no surprise whatsoever, the main character made it out of the haunted house at dawn with not a physical scratch on her. Apparently not a mental one either, even though her friends and family were brutally murdered and she was returning to work with a smile on her face in the last moments before the screen faded to black and Bakura was left completely alone.  
He silently turned off the TV and opened up his laptop. It was late, almost 11 now, but Bakura had no intentions of going to bed. Sleep was such a mundane and human thing, and he wanted no part of it until he could practically hear Ryou crying in the back of his head.  
He scrolled down some random forum about a topic he didn't really care about, skimming over commentary that made no sense to him without context. The book that Marik had angrily left on the table was what Bakura considered using as a footstool, but reconsidered when he remembered that Marik hadn't finished it. Maybe he should return it to him. After all, he had been some what of a jerk earlier.  
His footsteps were always quiet. He was too light and too careful to stomp even when he wanted to. The only noise he made were the legs of his jeans rubbing against each other. Marik had not heard him, he guessed, because his door was open a crack and Bakura could see him inside. His back was completely turned to the doorway. He was sitting at his desk, crouched over a notebook that was almost like a diary to him. Except, rather than a diary it was a composition of letters for his sister and brother, written in a language that was too modern for Bakura's ancient Egyptian remembrance. Right now, he was probably complaining about Bakura. He probably did that a lot, not that Bakura cared.  
The second devilish thought in less than half an hour filled his thoughts. He didn't give a fuck if Marik was upset by his antics, it was funny to Bakura and that's all he cared about.  
With the book tucked under his arm, he crossed the hall to his own bedroom. He had no idea what he could use in here to freak him out, but Bakura decided he was going to piss Marik off even more.

* * *

The book was put on his own desk, standing open to a random page, standing out against the neatness of the rest of his desk. He had put his laptop in his room, open on his bed where he often left it.  
It was such a dumb prank, there was no way that Marik would buy it ever, but it was the thought that counted.  
For some reason (maybe it was too many action movies) Bakura had his back pressed to the wall just outside Marik's door and held his breath, as if exhaling too loud would compromise this whole operation. In one hand, an old air freshener canister, with enough spring breeze scented crap to last long enough for this. In his other hand, a white plastic zip tie. And on his desk, the sharpest pair of scissors in the house, in a cup behind the book with a fake-blood stained cry for help as a bookmark.  
He had two thoughts simultaneously:_ this is the worst idea ever_, and_ I am a fucking genius and this is great._  
His hands were almost shaking with sheer excitement. He felt pathetic for feeling so happy about something so boring, but he dismissed it when he wrapped the zip tie to the handle of the air freshener. He had forgotten that the zip tie clicks when you seal it, so the first two he closed gently but ended up ripping the zip tie quickly shut around the handle. The 'fresh scent' that smelled rather average to Bakura, but thought about this for less than a second. He kicked it into Marik's room and then made a mad dash for his own, pouncing onto his bed and throwing his laptop on his thighs and pretended he was reading something important.  
It didn't take very long at all for his door to slam open. Marik entered with the hissing can in hand.  
"You asshole," Marik spat. He wasn't one to throw vulgar words like that around, so apparently he was supposed to be threatening.  
Having never taken any form of acting class in his life, Bakura attempted to look as confused as possible. "I don't know what I'm an asshole for this time, Marik. Is something wrong with my room? Why are you spraying all that Lysol, I hate that shit."  
"You put it in my room!" Marik said, raising his voice. "That stupid box thing wasn't enough, was it? You just had to keep going?"  
"Is that a zip tie?" Bakura squinted at it, as if noticing it for the first time. "There are scissors on my desk. I'm trying to read this article about this cowboy movie that's coming out soon, something happened on set and I'm trying to-"  
"What is this?" Marik interrupted, picking up the piece of paper that Bakura had planted there.  
"I haven't even touched my desk today, Marik, you know I've been busy with my landlord and his headaches...what the hell is that?" He asked, trying his best to sound convincing. He sprang out of bed and stood behind Marik. "Okay, you gotta turn that crap off, I'm choking here, Marik."  
Marik cut the zip tie and dropped the air freshener on the floor, his eyes locked on the paper that resembled a prop from the movie.  
"Bakura, this isn't funny. This is rude and I will not tolerate it."  
"I've never even seen that, though. It's not mine. Look, it isn't even my handwriting." He had gone out of his way to make it look like a girl had written it. He had to hand it to himself, it looked rather legitimate. "Dude, I've been watching TV all day."  
"I don't believe you," Marik said, putting the paper back where he had found it. He had tried his best to sound passive, but it was clear that he was falling for it.  
"I honestly have no idea how this got here. I've been in here since the movie ended, and I didn't even touch that stupid book."  
"What if we're in a scary movie, Bakura? Like right now." Marik also apparently had no idea how movies were created.  
"Impossible. They're made on sets in Hollywood, everyone knows that."  
This didn't seem to give Marik much comfort. "I'm going back to my room," he announced. "I'll be back if anything else suspicious happens. I will not be killed by some cursed spirit."  
"You know where to find me, an actual cursed spirit," Bakura called after him, starting to feel like he was going to laugh. And he did, after Marik had left and Bakura had picked up a pillow to muffle his laughter with.

* * *

Sometime in the past hour, a storm had made its way through, and Bakura sat on his bed, listening to the rain on his windows. He had suspected that Marik had gone to sleep by now. It was almost two in the morning, and Bakura had no intentions of sleeping until his body pleaded for it. He had plenty to do, be it play a video game, or work on some school assignment that Ryou had started, or sort through his deck, but he was just so bored with it tonight. He was still feeling smug about earlier, when he had seemingly spooked Marik. It had certainly toned down his ego for now, which Bakura felt was something Marik needed every once in a while.  
Through the wall, Bakura heard a floorboard creak from the hall, and a door open. Marik was awake after all. Was he too scared to sleep? He'd always slept below ground as a kid, apparently, and lightning freaked him out because it was new to him.  
His thoughts were confirmed when his own door opened, wide enough to where it clunked against the wall behind it. There stood Marik, looking much younger as he lacked all the gold that he insisted upon wearing on a daily basis.  
"What is it?" Bakura asked, shutting his computer and leaning it on the floor against the wall.  
"As childish as it may seem, I'm nervous that there really is a ghost here."  
Bakura rolled his eyes. "What makes you think that a ghost wants you?"  
He shrugged and said, "I'm not a ghost expert, Bakura. I don't know what to do. I can't sleep."  
Without even saying a word, Bakura reluctantly rolled over on his bed. Marik sat at the edge.  
"I won't stay long, okay?"  
"That's a damn lie."  
"So what if it is? You couldn't care less."  
Bakura growled and fell back against his pillow, laying down and not looking anywhere but the wall beside him. Marik didn't talk anymore and Bakura was sure some time had passed when he had dozed off for a few minutes. He now actually felt tired, and let himself fall asleep although he was uncomfortable with Marik being so close to him. Maybe he was asleep now, or maybe he wasn't, but Bakura didn't want to roll over to see.  
An exceptionally loud clap of thunder let Bakura know that he was awake, and the storm sounded worse than before. His mind was still clouded with tiredness, but he was certain there was a hand holding his waist. For a second or two, he had forgotten Marik was there with him. Before he realized that, though, he had opened his eyes completely and rolled around to come face to face with Marik, sound asleep on his pillow. Their faces were too close for comfort, and he recoiled back, right into the wall behind him, causing a dull thud and a deal of pain behind his eyes.  
He propped himself up on one elbow and considered shaking Marik awake. He considered it longer than it could have taken him, and he ended up just glaring at Marik's face for an extended period of time.  
Eventually deciding it wasn't really a problem after all, Bakura lay back down where he was before. Besides, it was certainly more than enough to make up for what he had done tonight. In fact, Marik would probably have owed him tomorrow for this, if not for Bakura falling back asleep before finishing his threat. Of course, this wasn't a completely terrible punishment for what he had done tonight. Bakura would still probably have to fake some form of apology in the morning, but he figured that if he could play his cards right, he'd never have to _really_ say sorry at all.


End file.
